


All was golden in the sky

by threadgoodethebard (elevenagain)



Category: Pitch Perfect (Movies)
Genre: F/F, Mention of a family member's death, When the Day Met the Night
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-22
Updated: 2016-01-22
Packaged: 2018-05-15 12:08:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5784799
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elevenagain/pseuds/threadgoodethebard
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bechloe AU. Inspired by Panic! at the Disco's "When the day met the night".</p>
<p>When Chloe Beale goes talk to Beca Mitchell on the beach, the DJ just can't tell her to go away. She blames it on the sadness in the redhead's eyes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All was golden in the sky

**Author's Note:**

  * For [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts).



> Hey there! The idea for this fic came up when I was at the beach watching the sunrise with a bunch of friends and "When the day met the night" came on on my phone. I immediately thought about Bechloe, because everything is Bechloe, right?
> 
> Title taken from the song.
> 
> Also, I dedicate this story to @cloverbomb, who is awesome and unintetionally gave me some good ideas ;]

**When the sun found the moon** **/She was drinking tea in a garden/Under the green umbrella trees/In the middle of summer/When the moon found the sun/He looked like he was barely hanging on/But her eyes saved his life/In the middle of summer**  
  


 

Beca didn’t do _this. Ever._

 

If there was something she avoided like the plague, it was social interaction. And if there was something even worse than your usual social interaction, it was doing it with _strangers_.

 

So yes, Beca wasn’t the type to talk to bubbly people she didn’t know on the beach. That was why she always went to enjoy the view of the sea around the time the sun was about to set – most of the enthusiastic beachgoers had already left or were leaving, exhausted after playing and swimming all day long. Many saw no use in being on the beach if there was no sun. Others were worried about what they would have for dinner. The few who remained to watch the sunset were usually lovesick couples or nostalgic artists, and none were the kind of people who would bother Beca. But if they, for any bizarre reason, turned out to be exactly _that_ type of people, the girl would undoubtedly be prepared, courtesy of the extra measures she always made sure of taking: a headphone around her neck, a laptop with which the sea would share her gaze and attention, and a permanent image of aloofness she carefully kept. 

 

That was Beca Mitchell – wannabe music producer, who would never admit to it, but actually enjoyed the beach. On, you know, her own terms: no people talking to her,  sitting under a big umbrella tree, drawing inspiration from the sea and from the sunset for her mixes and creations.

 

That was Beca Mitchell – someone who liked the view of the waves breaking on shore and the way the wind blew strands of hair in her face, and who would never engage in small talk with some curious tourist.

 

That was Beca Mitchell – a girl who would never be caught exchanging words with a beautiful redhead who had just suddenly showed up and sat by Beca’s side without asking for permission, rambling about an astonishing variety of subjects.

 

And _yet_ … here was the one and only Beca Mitchell: headphones around her neck, computer on her lap and a smiling stranger on her side.

 

But hey, don’t be so quick to judge – the readhead’s eyes were to blame, Beca knew. Not because they were incredibly blue and shiny - that had absolutely _nothing_ to do with _anything_. No, it was because they were _sad_. Sure, the girl was smiling and being friendly, but the DJ could see that something was eating at her. Beca supposed the redhead hid it well, with all of her bubbly and positive attitude, but she was used to finding concealed misery behind other people irises: she had learned to spot it from an early age, on her mother’s eyes. Whenever the older woman offered her a small smile and told her she was feeling better, Beca could see the truth in her sad gaze: the fighting and the abandonment were still hurting her. Later on, when all she heard in a long time, from the man who had one day been her hero, was that her dream of being a music producer was a childish one, Beca was surprised to find the same secret pain in the dark-blue irises staring back at her in the mirror. In spite of acting like she didn’t care about her father’s opinion, like she was so confident in her skills that what people said didn’t matter, and that they were all too dense and just a waste of her time, the truth could still be seen in her eyes, if you knew how to look. And that was when Beca learned two things: people were full of bullshit, and no one cared enough to look for the truth about others.

 

And that was how she knew this redhead girl would be just another someone, full of bullshit – _everyone_ was. She couldn’t shut her out, however, because she had made the mistake of locking gazes, and had seen the genuine pain hidden in the other girl’s. And it was not that she was really looking – honestly, she didn’t care -; it was more that she was cursed with this eye-reading thing. And okay, she wasn’t that much of an _asshole_ to make someone who seemed so crushed feel even worse. Not that anyone would believe she wasn’t said complete asshole – Beca herself was full of bullshit, after all, and they all assumed she was nothing more than a sarcastic punk.

 

“You can’t just sit there.” It had been the first sentence the brunette directed at her new companion, when she was finally able to recover her ability of speaking after the shock she felt at the girl simply making herself comfortable next to Beca.

 

“I’m not. I also asked you what you’re doing with a laptop on the beach.” The redhead smiled brightly, and Beca moved a little to the left, trying to put some distance between them.

 

“That’s personal. You shouldn’t ask that.” The DJ closed the lid of her computer, and then flinched when she realized the action could be interpreted as her deciding to engage in the conversation.

 

“What should I ask you about, then?” The girl tilted her head, and Beca was a little surprised at how she could seem so fine when her eyes screamed otherwise.

 

“Nothing. We shouldn’t be talking.”

 

“That’s no fun,” the redhead frowned. “I have a better idea. I’ll tell you some stuff about me, then you can tell me whatever you want about yourself, ok?”

 

All Beca did was remain silent, which she blamed on the girl’s sad eyes again. Were it anyone else, who appeared to be truly all right, and she would be saying such nasty things to them that they would never come back to this beach in their lives. With this girl, however, it was only a half effort, because how could Beca upset someone who was already obviously hurting?

 

“My name is Chloe. I grew up in Florida. I have three older brothers and a dog named Xena – she is so badass! The character, I mean. My dog is more of a cutie girl. I’m taking a break from school – I go to Barden University. My best friend is Aubrey, a super smart chick who is going to be an awesome lawyer. And my favorite food is tacos. Well, if I’m being honest, it’s always changing, but it’s totes tacos this summer.”

 

When being presented with so much and so _random_ information in one go, all Beca could do was blink. When Chloe kept looking at her, however, she knew she had to answer, even though she didn’t truly understand how it was exactly that she was even willing to do so.

 

“Uh, okay, Chloe. You sure can talk. I’m Beca. And I like music.”

 

Beca knew people. She knew Chloe would frown and ask “that’s it?” and eventually get bored of the awkward silence that would follow and make up some lame excuse in order to get away from her, not finding the cure for her sadness in Beca’s weird personality.

 

“Oh, cool! I love music too!” And okay, Beca wasn’t prepared for that. She was also not prepared for how relieved she felt when she learned that Chloe would stay – she _didn’t_ want her to, so what was _that_ now?

 

When the redhead started listing her all time favorites and the songs that were stuck in her head that summer, Beca found herself snickering or sharing the girl’s enthusiasm, depending on the music – she swore Chloe listened to _everything_. And then Beca caught herself wishing Chloe would sing any of those songs instead of just mentioning them, because she could sense her voice would be an angelic one. The DJ also _knew_ she was talking more than she usually did: more than she normally talked with her mother, more than she normally talked with her moronic best friend Amy, _definitely_ more than she normally talked with strangers who suddenly imposed their presence on her – which was _nothing,_ by the way. It was a bit scary, but also exciting, because it was _music_. Then two hours went by, and Chloe hugged her goodbye – and she should have hated it, but all she felt was some mild discomfort and stiffness.

 

When she went to bed that night, Beca realized she still had no idea of why Chloe’s eyes had seemed so sad, despite her excitement over music. She guessed she would never know, but hoped the talk had somehow eased the girl’s mind.

 

 

 

It turned out the DJ had been wrong – she might actually get to know the reasons for Chloe’s misery, because the redhead was back under Beca’s umbrella tree the next day, at sunset. The brunette certainly hadn’t expected the other girl to be back, but was not exactly annoyed that she was.

 

Once again, Chloe found random topics for them to discuss – Beca was sort of starting to fail in the whole seeming nonchalant and disinterested thing – and brought some songs to show to the DJ and get her opinion on them.

 

The whole time, the redhead had seemed incredibly open – talking a lot, touching Beca a lot (which should really be more irritating that it actually was), sharing a few facts about her life. The brunette noticed, however, how Chloe avoided emotional stories and some key-information (as to why she was taking a break from school), and she knew that the bright-blue-eyed-girl was just as closed off as Beca, who hadn’t even talked about where she lived, was. She also knew no one would have guessed it, fooled by how bubbly and talkative Chloe was.

 

When she went to bed that night, Beca was terrified at the prospect that she might be _good_ at reading _people_ – she knew about everyone being full of bullshit and the secrets in the eyes thing, but it had been so long since she had let anyone new get close that she hadn’t really dwelled on it in a long time. She calmed herself down by convincing herself that she had no proof of being good in reading people, only Chloe – and that was, for some reason, not nearly as scary.

 

 

 

**So he said, "Would it be all right** **/If we just sat and talked for a little while/If in exchange for your time/I give you this smile?"**

 

 

On the third day, Beca asked Chloe what it was exactly that they were doing. It wasn’t that she was trying to be rude – she just genuinely didn’t interact with people like this, wasn’t used to just talk and get to know someone, and so she felt puzzled.

 

“What do you mean?” Chloe arched an eyebrow at her.

 

“This,” Beca answered lamely, gesticulating between them with her hand. “To be honest with you, I thought you were gonna spill your guts to me on the first day, sort of like taking me for, like, a shrink, and then we’d never see each other again.” The brunette frowned as a new idea crossed her mind. “Shit. Are you trying to bone me?”

 

“Wouldn’t say no to that, if you’re interested,” Chloe winked teasingly, and the DJ felt her cheeks reddening. As she kept mumbling unintelligible, disconnected syllables, the redhead took pity on her and sighed. “Beca, relax. That’s not why I’m here.”

 

For a few moments, all Beca did was stare at Chloe, who had turned her gaze to the calm sea in front of them. For the first time since they started talking, the redhead was not trying to hide the fact that she was carrying some kind of burden. She was just inhaling and exhaling softly, looking at the waves, obviously contemplating her life and what she would say next. Beca thought she looked beautiful in such a raw moment, and briefly wondered if she should feel guilty for thinking it right then.

 

“Do you like it when I smile?” Chloe asked, finally turning her head to look at Beca again, still looking serene and pensive rather than excited and cheerful.

 

“Uh?” Once again, the brunette was taken aback. She supposed she should really get used to Chloe surprising her soon and stop looking like an idiot every single time it happened.

 

“When I smile. Do you like it?”

 

“Well, yeah,” Beca scratched the back of her neck, feeling a little flushed. “You’ve got, like, these really white teeth.”

 

“White teeth?” Chloe chuckled, and Beca felt even more embarrassed, which lead to her trying to explain herself.

 

“Yeah, like, congrats on the enamel – it’s really thick.” Then the DJ felt like burying her head in the sand. Why the _hell_ was she talking anatomy and being all geek and awkward? She swore she was cooler than that – cooler than all the stupid kids in that stupid beach. Except that, _apparently_ , not so cool when in front of a pretty redhead. “Can I go drown myself in the sea?” She groaned, hiding her face in her palms.

 

Gently, Chloe removed her hands and made her look at her again. She was grinning brightly, looking extremely pleased. “No way! That’s the best compliment I’ve ever received! I was just fishing for ‘nice smile’ – could never have expected something about my awesome _amanel.”_

 

_“_ Enamel,” Beca murmured quietly, sure that her cheeks were still red.

 

“You’re so cute being all smart,” Chloe winked, and the brunette tried her best to roll her eyes at her.

 

“But you do, you know?”

 

“Huh?”

 

“Have a nice smile. Beautiful, even,” The  DJ replied, staring intently at the sea in front of them.

 

“Now who is trying to bone who?” The redhead grinned smugly, making Beca glare at her.

 

“Don’t be gross, dude.”

 

“Beca,” at her once again serene tone, the brunette softened her gaze. “Thank you. Seriously.”

 

Feeling uncomfortable, the DJ gave in to her nervous habit of scratching the back of her neck. “Don’t get all mushy on me, Beale.”

 

“You don’t let me do anything!” The redhead whined, pouting.

 

“Why don’t you go on and explain why you started this ‘do you like my smile?’ business? I’ll let you do that.”

 

For a few seconds, Chloe only looked at Beca, and seemed to be truly scrutinizing her face. The younger girl felt a little self-conscious, but could sense there was something important about that moment, and so she restrained herself from saying anything that might ruin the mood.

 

“If I thank you with this smile you called beautiful, will you let us keep doing this? Will you let me keep coming here and talking?” There was something new in her eyes, Beca could see. It seemed hopeful; maybe a little desperate. The brunette had been right in guessing the moment would be important – she just didn’t know how to properly react to it. She wasn’t really good in the whole handling feelings department.

 

“You’re so weird. So yeah, we can do this weird thing – it suits you.”

 

“Thanks!” Chloe beamed, Beca smirked at her enthusiasm, and soon they were back to random topics.

 

When they parted and had already started walking their separate ways, the DJ thought there was something she would like to say. For a moment, she debated internally about whether she should do it or not, but decided that yeah, _screw_ feeling awkward about the stuff her brain came up with.

 

“Hey Chloe!” When the redhead stopped walking and turned to her questioningly, Beca continued, “You don’t need to smile, ok? We can keep coming here to talk and, like, frown together, if that’s what you feel like doing. Do what you actually want to do, dude.”

 

And when the redhead beamed sincerely and gratefully, Beca knew that _yeah_ , she had been totally right in saying it.

 

 

 

**So she said, "That's okay** **/As long as you can make a promise/Not to break my little heart/Or leave me all alone in the summer."**

 

 

“I thought you would have grown tired of me by now,” Beca admits suddenly, on what should be the eight day (it is, because she is counting, but she wants to seem cool about it all).

 

“Becs,” (it’s the nickname Chloe calls her by now, and Beca probably only allows it because it’s Chloe) “that could _never_ happen. I thought you would have guessed by now how much I like spending time with you.” And, of course, the redhead was now holding her hand and caressing its back with her thumb.

 

“People have left before,” the DJ declares quietly, staring at the sea – something that has become their code for serious and difficult discussions.

 

“I’m listening.” Chloe squeezed her hand affectionately, and Beca sighed soundly.

 

“My dad. He was my best friend. He read me stories before bed. He watched Disney movies with me. And then, he… he just didn’t, you know? He didn’t have patience anymore, he and my mother were always yelling at each other, and he would get out of the house not to have to think about it. He didn’t remember to think about me either. And then, one day, he left. Just left. And I hate all of those fucking movies now. They have these beautiful, boring, predictable endings, but life is not like that – it’s just shitty. I don’t get a happy reunion with my father – I’m an asshole who doesn’t like people and can’t have any kind of relationship without messing it up. And he is an asshole too, and he doesn’t want to help me go to LA, because he says I don’t have what it takes to be a music producer, and it’s not even a real profession, and that’s funny because he is a Literature professor, not exactly the most reliable thing when he was studying in college, I’ll tell you, and he fucking wants me to go to Barden. He doesn’t believe in me, and sometimes I go crazy because _I_ don’t believe in myself.”

 

Beca closed her eyes in anger and frustration, and only realized a few tears had escaped her eyes when Chloe’s soft hand was there to catch them. It was silent for a few moments – the DJ knew how much the redhead had to process. She didn’t know any of that until then, because Beca avoided talking about her personal life. With _anyone_. In fact, it was the first time she had told someone about all that, and while it felt good to let it all out, it also left her incredibly vulnerable.

 

“I believe in you. And the most important thing is that you do too. But until then, if you can’t, I’ll believe for you.” Her expression was earnest and she looked completely serious, but Beca had some trouble accepting it.

 

“You haven’t even listened to any of my stuff yet,” the brunette scoffed, biting her lip.

 

“Bring me some tomorrow. I’m sure they are amazing.”

 

Beca hesitated for a second. She didn’t show people her mash-ups, but it was _Chloe_ : kind, gentle, beautiful Chloe, who was looking at her with adoration and saying she believed in her. Eventually, the brunette gave a weak nod, which prompted the redhead to rest her forehead against hers.

 

“Thank you, Becs. And as for the relationship thing, you’re doing great in this one. Totally awesome Beca Mitchell, not an asshole.”

 

“I call you ‘weird’ every day, I make fun of you and I’m really awkward.”

 

“And you make me laugh, give me these super weird compliments and listen to my ramblings. I think you should know that the sunset has become my favorite time of day. And I’m not leaving, okay?”

 

“You really are a weirdo, Beale,” Beca chuckled, resting her hand on Chloe’s, which was holding her face. Like two idiots, they grinned at each other, and Beca felt that maybe they could both be okay some day.

 

 

 

The next day, Beca took her laptop to their usual umbrella tree. It had been a while since she had had the computer on her at sunset on the beach, because she wasn’t avoiding people anymore. In fact, she was _seeking_ for one; something that still got her perplexed when she thought about it.

 

She showed Chloe a mash-up she was particularly proud of, even in those moments in which she would doubt herself. While the redhead listened attentively, Beca was torn between biting her nails in nervousness and thinking of how gorgeous Chloe looked with the DJ’s black headphones around her head.

 

“OH MY GOSH, BECS, THIS IS AMAZING! YOU ARE CRAZY TALENTED!” For a second, Beca thought the redhead was screaming due to still having the headphones on her ears, but it was not that: she was simply sincerely excited and proud. Chloe hugged Beca tightly, saying that she would be incredibly famous, that she wanted to buy her music someday and asking if she could please get a flash drive with more of those “absolutely divine creations sent by the godness of music to make life in this planet special”.

 

Beca shook her head and called Chloe a dork, but couldn’t restrain the big smile that revealed exactly how happy she was that someone had liked her work and thought she could be successful with it. Especially since that someone was _Chloe Beale_. Maybe – just maybe – Beca could do it, after all.

 

 

 

Two days later, when Chloe inhaled deeply and kept her gaze trained on the sea, Beca knew she would learn why that hint of sadness was ever present in the bright blue eyes she had come to be so fond of. Again, it would surprise people that Beca had been the first one to _really_ talk about her life and her problems, which only showed how limited they were in their own ideas and assumptions.  Not Chloe, though. Chloe was different, and she was making Beca feel like getting close to someone could actually be _worth_ all the effort and risks. Maybe. _Hopefully._

 

“My grandma died three months ago. And I know this may sound childish, because people die – especially grandmas, I suppose. But she was the first person to ever believe in me. She’d see me sing when I was a child and say ‘Chlo baby, you’ll be a star. The biggest there is, hun’, and I’d believe her. She went to my every performance – from kindergarten to university. She was always there, and she was the one I wanted there at my graduation the most, you know? I wanted her to see me being successful. I have three brothers – a doctor, a lawyer and an engineer – and my parents never made me feel bad about it, but I knew other people would laugh at ‘Chloe the artist’ and see me shadowed by them. Not my grandma. This is super selfish, but I was her favorite. I really was her star, and I don’t know, I just haven’ been able to sing since she passed away. That’s why I’m taking a break from Barden. Aubrey is worried, but I can’t sing with the Beallas, our a capella group, knowing my grandma won’t be there to see me in our next performance. And not singing, I don’t feel like myself.”

 

Chloe was openly crying now, and Beca sat closer to her. She deemed herself a disaster in the whole comforting thing, but seeing Chloe’s tears was one of the most painful sights she had ever witnessed, and so she knew she had to try.

 

“Your grandma sounds lovely. I think I would’ve liked to meet her, and I don’t like to meet anyone. Only the two of you.” At that, Chloe gave her a weak smile. “And hey, I’ll believe in you too, okay? Same thing you said: it’s better if you believe in yourself, but I’ll be here doing it for you until you get to it.”

 

And then, Chloe lunged herself at Beca, wrapping her arms around her and sobbing on her shoulder. The brunette held the other girl tightly, whispering gentle words and hoping the redhead knew how much Beca meant it when she said Chloe truly was a star.

 

 

 

**Well he was just hanging around** **/Then he fell in love/And he didn't know how/But he couldn't get out/Just hanging around/Then he fell in love**

 

 

Beca really wanted to cheer Chloe up. In order to do just that, she used some valuable information she had gotten on the first day they talked, and hoped it would bring a genuine smile to the redhead’s face.

 

“You made me tacos!? Oh my gosh, you really are my favorite person!” Chloe lunged herself at the brunette, who lost her balance and fell in the sand.

 

“Careful, woman! Ugh dude, I’m covered in sand now!” Beca complained, trying to dust off her jeans.

 

“You could always go to the water,” the redhead shrugged, too happy with the tacos to really worry about Beca’s grumpiness.

 

“In jeans?” The DJ quirked an eyebrow, still fighting a lost battle against the sand.

 

“You’re not in bikinis?” Chloe frowned, in the middle of a bite, and Beca was sure anyone else would have looked ridiculous. Not Beale, obviously, because she was the most gorgeous human being on the planet.

 

“Obviously not.”

 

“Becs, you have to come in your bikini tomorrow! We’ll swim and it will be sooo fun! How haven’t we done this before?”

 

“Because I would never, that’s why.”

 

“You’re afraid I’ll be too distracting in a bikini?” Chloe winked seductively, and Beca felt her face burn. The redhead seemed to be joking, so maybe she didn’t know how true her words were to Beca.

 

“Dude, no.” The DJ was, of course, very elaborate. But _come on_ , Chloe was teasing her – her brain had the right to go into short-circuit.

 

“Come ooon, Becs, please! It will be awes!”

 

“I’m not doing it – no fucking way.”

 

Needless to say, it took Chloe less than ten minutes to convince Beca to swim together the very next day.

 

“These tacos beat Taco Bell for sure!” The redhead exclaimed around a mouthful.

 

“Dude, no. Come on now, Taco Bell is the shit,” Beca retorted, shaking her head.

 

“But these were made with love, which make them sooo much better!” At those words, the brunette became contemplating. Could it be true? She sure thought a lot about Chloe and wanted to make her happy, which was a huge improvement from how she thought everyone else sucked and was only full of bullshit, but she didn’t think she could do this whole love thing. Being so emotional stunted, she would probably end up hurting the redhead.

 

The girl was suddenly pulled out from her reverie when a loud kiss was pressed against her cheek. “What was that for?” Beca inquired, trying hard not to blush while the skin soft lips had pressed on tingled.

 

“For being the sweetest and learning to make these for lil’ ol’ me.” The redhead beamed, looking very content while taking another bite.

 

Love, huh? Beca wondered…

 

 

 

In the end, not gaping at Chloe’s body in a bikini didn’t turn out to be as hard as Beca had expected (which was something near impossible). Not because she didn’t look amazing – she obviously did, but because the DJ was distracted by how much fun they were having. Chloe would swim, float, jump on her back, try to see fish underneath, and the brunette was a little dazed at how fast they went from activity to activity. The redhead had the energy of a small kid bottled in that gorgeous body, and it all got Beca in awe. She caught herself genuinely laughing from time to time, and couldn’t help but think about how it would never be happening only a month ago. When a super excited and innocent Chloe told her that they were destined to meet and become real fast friends because they both had bug tattoos, the brunette felt her heart swell. She knew right then she would do everything she could to make that dork, beautiful, kind girl smile. Chloe was the first person not full of bullshit and who had cared enough to try and get to really know Beca, so that had to be worth something. And it didn’t hurt the whole feeling fond thing when a shivering Chloe put on the brunette’s favorite flannel shirt, making the DJ’s heart skip a few beats.

 

 

 

“We should go on a Roman Holiday. A road trip. A trip to Disneyland!” They were lying side by side that afternoon, and Chloe was animatedly listing possibilities.

 

“There’s something I might want to do.” Beca declared, a little more serious. She had given this a lot of thought, and there was something she wanted to do for Chloe soon.

 

“What is it?” The redhead turned her gaze at the DJ, looking curious.

 

“I think I’ll go to Barden. My father won’t let me go to LA now anyway, and from what you and I have been talking, I think there are some classes that may be useful for me. I think it can help me improve.” When Chloe remained silent, Beca took a deep breath and looked at her meaningfully. “And I think there may be something for me at Barden.”

 

After a few seconds, the redhead averted Beca’s gaze. “Maybe.”

 

She was still insecure, the DJ knew it then. If it all worked out, though, maybe she could help Chloe.

 

 

 

 

“Chlo, I need your help.” The brunette, who was concentrated on her computer, turned her gaze to the older girl.

 

“What is it, Becs?” The redhead asked, sitting even closer and peeking at Beca’s mixing program.

 

“I’m stuck. I want to make this mash-up, but it’s not really working. Let me show you the beats.”

 

After playing the mixed track with “Just a Dream” and “Just The Way You Are”, Beca frowned. “You see? Something isn’t right. Let me try singing it to see if I find whatever is wrong. You tell me if you spot it, okay?”

 

“Got it!”

 

The brunette kept the concentrated look on her face while she sang, trying not to get distracted by how in awe Chloe always seemed when she opened her mouth to make music. Beca was purposely marking the rhythm wrong, and she knew there was no way she could make a duet by herself, but she made sure it looked like she was super focused and really trying.

 

In a few moments, Chloe joined her in “Just The Way You Are”. Gazing at the redhead with the corner of her eye, Beca knew the girl hadn’t realized yet what she was doing. The brunette eventually took charge of “Just A Dream”, and they sounded _incredible_ together. When they finished the duet – now sounding perfect -, they beamed at each other.

 

After a few seconds, Chloe’s eyes widened and the girl jumped to her feet. “Beca! Becs! I sang! Oh my gosh, I sang!” She was absolutely in shock, and the brunette carefully put down her computer in order to get up and join the other girl.

 

“You sang, Chlo. Beautifully.” Beca offered her a large, sincere smile.

 

“You little bastard! You planned this!” But, of course, she was not really mad. “Becs, I sang!” Chloe’s eyes were bright with unshed tears, and she was smiling bigger than the brunette had ever seen.

 

“I think you should go back to the Bellas, Chlo. You should perform again, and you should study music, be a music teacher, be a superstar, be everything you want to and can be. I can be there for every performance, if you let me.”

 

Beca half expected Chloe to jump at her and hug her tight, like usual, but it didn’t happen. Instead, the redhead looked at her with adoring eyes, and her smile changed to a smaller, more fond and fascinated one.

 

“I love you, Beca Mitchell.”

 

The DJ couldn’t breathe. She didn’t think they’d get here – not today. Was she ready?  Well, one might never be prepared to be loved by someone as amazing as Chloe Beale. But was she ready to be in a relationship? The way the redhead was looking at her seemed to indicate she believed Beca was.

 

“There totally is something for you at Barden, if you want it.” Chloe’s eyes were shining, and Beca decided that everything should go screw itself – she _wanted_ to be with Chloe. She was in love with Chloe.

 

“I’m broken, okay? I’m an idiot. I do love you – you should know that, but I don’t know how to do this,” Beca warned, slowly putting her hands on Chloe’s hips.

 

“I’m broken too, but you are helping me heal. I think we can make each other perfect,” the redhead answered, tangling her right hand in Beca’s hair.

 

“You think we’re perfect for each other because we both have bug tattoos,” the DJ snickered, her breath mingling with Chloe’s.

 

“I think my theory is proving to be extremely correct, don’t you?” And the best way to wipe that smug smile off the redhead’s lips Beca could think of was with a kiss – so she did just that. It was soft and warm, under the green umbrella tree, in the sand, in front of the emerald sea and under the blue sky. It was like one of those ridiculous sappy endings, which would make Beca want to grimace if she wasn’t so busy being, you know, _happy_.

 

When they parted, Chloe hummed pensively. “You won’t be really seeing my performances.”

 

“Uh?” The DJ asked dumbly, still a little breathless from the kiss.

 

“You’ll be participating in them, silly. You will totally be a Bella!”

 

“What!? Dude, again, _no_!”

 

“Please. You know you will. And I have a feeling you and Aubrey will love each other!”

 

Beca wanted to protest, but then she really looked at Chloe. That hidden sadness was gone, substituted by a hopeful glimmer, and the DJ simply knew that she would even be something as lame as captain of an a capella group (but it wouldn’t come to that, _right_?) if it meant Chloe’s eyes would show her happiness instead of sadness.

 

It was the best summer of her life, and it was not some idiot movie ending, because it was just the beginning of her world with Chloe. And, honestly, Beca just couldn’t wait.

 

 

**In the middle of summer** **/All was golden in the sky/All was golden when the day met the night/When the moon fell in love with the sun/All was golden in the sky/All was golden when the day met the night**

**Author's Note:**

> Anything you wanna yell about Bechloe, I'm at @threadgoodethebard


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